


Words That Remain Unsaid

by notacollegeboy (Aaron_The_8th_Demon)



Category: Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Translation, Translation from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 17:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12438513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/notacollegeboy
Summary: Cyclops knows something about Logan's past, but he's not going to tell him.





	Words That Remain Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Слова, оставшиеся несказанными](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057625) by [WTF X-Men 2016 (R_Evolution)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Evolution/pseuds/WTF%20X-Men%202016). 



> [Creator's Notes]  
> Inspired by the application for Marvel & DC fest: http://marveldcfanfiction.diary.ru/p135751802.htm It is unlikely that the person who made the request is still waiting for the work, and it didn't turn out exactly the way requested, but it is what it is.
> 
> [Translator's Notes]  
> Found this work looking for Scogan porn :) I'm a student of Russian and enjoyed the story. I wanted to translate it into English for others to read but after contacting the author and being ignored (and given that the work was posted back in February 2016), I'm under the impression that the author is no longer active on the site. I have decided to translate it, but if the author does come back and wants me to take it down, I will without argument. THIS IS NOT MY WORK. This is the work of [R_Evolution](http://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Evolution/pseuds/WTF%20X-Men%202016). All I've done is translated it from its original Russian (and some things are lost through translation). I did not add any tags or alter the summary; this is literally verbatim inasmuch as it's possible for it to be verbatim. Enjoy!

1\. Scott.

But they did not recognize each other in the world.   
 Running away from the past is useless.

_Heinrich Heine_

 

These words came to Scott Summers several times - from different people, from pages of books, from movie screens - and, having heard them once again from the professor, he was even upset because he did not expect something so unoriginal from his mentor.

Xavier laughed.

"But it's true, Scott." Even too often, because these words had became so overused. "And I don't see the need for creating a new phrase when this one works just as well."

"But why?"

"Because all the wise words were once expressed by someone else. We can only repeat their ideas."

"Yes, but..."

"Don't view me as a messiah, Scott. I don't have any new truths for you. Just remember that it does no good to run from the past. It will catch up with you anyway, and hit you in the back."

Cyclops ultimately acknowledged the sentiment rather than arguing with the professor. He knew he needed to prepare himself, eventually, to meet the past face to face - it was the only challenge he preferred to sneak up behind.

And to hit it in the back.

***

On that day, nothing had indicated the difficulty to come.

One more tricky phrase - and also quite fair. The issue, to him, didn't bear thinking about, because it had already happened. During those ill-fated discussions, Senator Kelly defeated Jean, twisting her words against her, and the adoption of the law for the registration of mutants seemed to be only a matter of time. Being such a large setback, it could reasonably be assumed that the limit of troubles for that day had already been reached.

In fact, the main problem was still ahead, but Scott wouldn't understand this until the next evening. And even at first it seemed to be a standard task. As the professor said, Magneto was plotting a new scheme and had sent one of his associates, Sabretooth, to Canada to catch a mutant. Cyclops and Storm would intercept him and rescue the target.

"Who is this Sabretooth?" Scott asked.

"Zoomorph, judging by the nickname?" Ororo guessed.

"Yes," the professor confirmed. "And his bestial nature has long overcome his humanity. So stay cautious."

"And who's the mutant he's chasing? Why does Magneto want them?"

"I wasn't able to find out. Erik shut me out of his thoughts... Fly to Alberta, I'll find Sabretooth through Cerebro and give you the coordinates."

Scott didn't show his feelings. He could not control his abilities, but he managed perfectly well restricting his emotions. So he just nodded with a serious and collected look - his typical facial expression - and went to prepare the Blackbird. Of course he would complete this objective; he always did. Even if he had to deal with a zoomorph.

The point here was not at all the danger of the enemy, but rather the only shameful memory Cyclops associated with the zoomorph. He had plenty of bitter memories, but shameful - just one.

***

The brightest student and the best athlete of the school, Scott Summers, would normally have been forgiven for quite a lot, but that day his absent-mindedness and dark glasses had finally annoyed the teacher, and he was held detention. Scott didn't try to argue - he couldn't say what compelled him to behave so unusually that day.

Having automatically deduced the given verbs on the board, he struggled with what he should do if a teacher directly ordered him to take off his shades, and about gym class, where they weren't allowed to begin with. And aside from these small questions the main one inexorably rose: what could he do in general with his incomprehensible power? Scott had already rummaged all the books on biology found in the school library, but such a feature was nowhere to be found. Worse, there was nobody close to him that he could ask. His parents were gone and Scott was alone.

He was finishing the last words when he heard a tap on the glass.

Behind the window was a grinning whiskered face - that is, at first it was a face, and then the yellowish fangs were bared, so that he wasn't quite an animal but certainly no longer looked human. And the tapping on the glass was from a hooked claw that was about an inch long.

Scott somehow immediately realized that the man was after him. And then he stopped thinking; his brain froze with terror, his skin was suddenly dripping with sticky sweat, and Scott, releasing the chalk from his now slippery fingers to bolt from the classroom. He rushed headlong down the corridor, not knowing where he was going - just away.

Scott didn't get far. The door at the end of the hall was flung open, and the fanged monster strode toward him, still leering mockingly:

"A little dark for sunglasses, don't you think?"

And with long animal jumps, pushing from the walls, he barreled after Scott when he reversed direction. Caught in two bounds, grabbed by the ankles and pulled, Scott ended up crushed under his attacker. The glasses flew off somewhere to the wall, and when Scott desperately spun, trying to break free from the paws, a powerful ray of energy escaped from his eyes. It tore through the walls and ceiling, ripping the concrete like old cloth. The wreckage rattled down, raising clouds of rock dust, and Scott instinctively squeezed his eyes closed as his face was pressed into the linoleum. The fanged man leaned over him, huge hands pressing down. Feeling those terrible claws approach his face, Scott, fearing that he would be eaten alive, wildly scrabbled under the impossible weight and dug at the floor with his fingers.

"Please! Don't! Please, don't...!"

Then something sharp jabbed his neck; Scott thought it was those horrible pointy teeth, he squealed even louder and thrashed again, but his body suddenly went limp and ceased to obey his mind. Then the crimson gloom turned black under his closed eyelids, and Scott's consciousness faded.

***

Cyclops couldn't forgive himself for what had happened back then. No matter how much Xavier has assured him that such his fear was quite normal - what, really, could the boy he'd been do about the predator? - it was still unbearably disgusting and embarrassing. He'd even asked the professor to erase his memories of the man with fangs, which led to their conversation about the uselessness of running from the past.

Storm had shrugged her shoulders; everyone was afraid of something, and the brave weren't immune to fear, but rather triumphed over it. However, she didn't usually imagine her commander as afraid and thought that Cyclops, agonizing over a lost fight, exaggerated his fear. And Jean said that she still loved him, and all the objections were stopped by kisses, and Scott forgot not only about his shame, but about everything in the world. Eventually, though, it would always come back for him.

In the beginning, Cyclops had always programmed the fanged monsters for his practice sessions. He would also dream frequently of how he would meet that enemy someday, and this time he wouldn't run or beg for mercy, though he understood that they would probably never meet again. Then the shameful gnawing gradually settled to the back of his mind, but periodically popped up again - for example, when Summers had to meet any new zoomorphs. That was why today's mission promised to become so troublesome, but he'd already decided he would never again show weakness. Helping the mutants, as the professor had helped him, was his duty, and Scott always would no matter how painful it might be.

***

The headset squealed thinly in his ear.

"Yes, Professor."

"I've located Sabretooth," Xavier said, "and I think I know who he's hunting for. It's a mutant named Wolverine."

"Another zoomorph?" Scott tried to make his voice sound even.

"Yes, though he is somewhat more successful at controlling his feral nature than Sabretooth. But his character is rough. Let Storm talk to him - I think he'll be more willing to listen to a beautiful woman."

"And if he refuses to go with us?"

"Then tell him that I can bring back his past."

"Is that even possible? How would you do something like that for him?"

"I'll explain later. He'll understand what you mean."

Could this mutant need the past? Scott would gladly get rid of his own. But now wasn't the time to think about it.

***

He recognized the fanged beast at once, although it looked like in the past fifteen years he'd never touched a razor, scissors, or comb. It was like Scott dreamed all these years, and which he'd stopped hoping for. When the monster felt the unnatural shift of the snowfall behind him and turned around, Cyclops raised his hand to the visor (with joy that he would later be ashamed of) and the beam hit him square in the chest, throwing Sabretooth back more than ten feet. However, he immediately jumped up and, looping like a hare, rushed up the hill with huge bounds. Scott shot him after several more times, but Sabretooth nimbly dodged and disappeared in the thick fir grove.

Once on the plane, Cyclops inspected the mutant they'd rescued. A tightly built man of about thirty-five, dark-haired, with old-fashioned sideburns subtly resembling Sabretooth. (It was still unusual for Scott to put a name to the monster.) There was an unsettling similarity between the two - or did all these zoomorphs look alike? Reproaching himself for such ugly thoughts, Cyclops continued to examine Wolverine. His nails and teeth were normal, but probably they somehow lengthened during the battle, judging by the blood stains and the shreds of Sabretooth's fur coat in the snow. As was common for zoomorphs, Wolverine had regenerative powers, according to his companion. Presumably from her descriptions it was so strong that comparatively the most advanced medicine was laughable.

Eventually Cyclops ceased to be interested in the rescued mutant. He was still excited by the unexpected meeting with the monster from the past and was too concerned with hiding it. Storm, luckily, tended to Rogue: she led the shaking girl off with tea and told her about Xavier's school.

Cyclops paid no attention to their conversation until Rogue asked, "And what will happen with Logan?"

"His name is Logan ?!" Cyclops cried.

"So what?" Storm was surprised. "It's just a name."

The name wasn't the most common, but it wasn't so rare that it was exotic. It was only surprising because the man who freed Scott from the laboratory, where Sabretooth had dragged him, was also called Logan.

***

...he walked up and down his cage like a trapped animal, five steps each way. Scott was already accustomed to this rhythm, and even with a bandage over his eyes did not bump into the bars. He had long ago lost track of time. The cell was damp and stuffy; apparently, he was in a cellar without windows. Scott couldn't tell the difference between the day and the night. Everything around was dark. Dark and terrifying. Sometimes the fear and despair became unbearable, so Scott would rush to the door of the cage and start shaking it. Then the guard would yell at him - "Quiet, freak!" - and smack his baton against the door. Scott would jump back every time because he was sure the guard was trying to break his fingers.

Five steps. Five more.

Sometimes Scott tried to count how many steps he would take in the time intervals between meals just to focus on something, but he always gave up, squatted in the corner with his head on his knees, and sat until he was fed. They afforded varied and nourishing courses - the major needed his subjects to remain in good condition - but Scott had to force himself to eat. It was necessary, he persuaded himself. You need to save your strength. He'd get out of there. He must get out. He had to believe that he could get out.

He must. Should, he repeated, as a mantra, with every step.

Five steps. Five steps. Five steps.

How many miles had he already marched in this cage? It could've been a dozen. Maybe a hundred. Or a thousand. How long had he been there? A week? Month? Year?

Five steps. Five steps. Three steps.

He stopped when he heard footsteps in the aisle.

He recognized Kayla's walk immediately. She came to her sister Emma, who was sitting in a nearby cage. She slipped a chocolate bar into the cage for Scott and stroked his hand. He didn't really like sweets, but still ate it without protest. Chocolate had a lot of calories and he needed his strength. The touch was much better - afterwards for a while the fear went away. Some kind of hypnosis. Kayla was also a mutant and also a prisoner of the major, although she did not sit in a cage. She didn't need to. It was enough that Emma was held in one.

Kayla was with a man, but not a guard - they stamped their boots in a heavy, businesslike way. This man walked lightly, almost noiselessly, like a carnivorous animal creeping up to its prey.

"Kayla, who's..." Scott's voice broke off mid-sentence. He heard a strange soft sound, like the rustle of a blade coming out of its scabbard - something like a "snap", the thump of a heavy body falling and gurgling, as if liquid was hitting the floor.

Then there was a clang and the screech of the metal being cut, the mutants sitting in the neighboring cells screamed, and Scott jumped back to the back wall, twisting his head in confusion. The clank came very close, and he thought that his cage might have been damaged.

Scott stepped forward, groping for the door. Fingers came across sections of thick steel rods and thorny edges of the net, ripped apart by something extraordinarily sharp. Next kissed, sobbing with joy, Emma and Kayla, the other children making excited noises.

An unfamiliar voice said, "Come on, quickly!"

Emma grabbed Scott's hand and they ran after Kayla and the stranger until they stopped so abruptly that the kids running behind the crowd nearly ran into them. Scott heard heavy metal doors swing open before him, and by the way the others quieted at once he guessed that something terrible had appeared from there.

Emma later told him that it was some kind of monster, as if stitched from individual rags, almost ten feet tall, and a sword coming out of each hand.

The stranger commanded: "Kayla, get these kids out of here!"

"Logan..."

"Find another way out!" He barked.

Scott again heard the same "snap" (the children later said that Logan had three unusually strong metal claws about a foot long, and this sound accompanied their appearance), and then Emma turned and dragged him back. No more thoughts of their mysterious savior occurred to him then. And it wasn't up to him; he had to fight with the soldiers guarding the base, and this time Scott didn't scare.

And then in his head came the voice of Charles Xavier, and Scott followed him, believing immediately and for life. He only remembered his rescuer when they were already flying up to the professor's mansion.

At first, Scott recalled him almost as often as he did about clawed monster, also with some shame, though not as painful. How could he forget his savior? Why didn't he ask the professor to help? Scott hadn't even thanked him. And if Logan died in a fight with that monster? But it was hard to believe. The stranger who'd miraculously appeared to free them had seemed invulnerable, even invincible.

Then his memory of Logan, as well as the fanged man, faded into the far corner of his brain. Most likely he'd never meet another clawed mutant, Scott decided. And if he did, how would he know it was Logan?

***

But now he'd re-encountered the fanged predator. So was it possible this was the Logan from his past?

Cyclops once again gazed intently into an unfamiliar face. Emma enthusiastically described Logan as "a very showy man", although in the turmoil and the twilight he really couldn't see anything more detailed than brawny and middle-aged. And this animal-like face did not look like the image of a noble-beautiful superman that Scott had created as a teenager in his imagination. But maybe Wolverine was just naturally appealing to women.

"Ororo," Cyclops turned to his teammate, "what do you think of this Wolverine?"

"It is difficult for me to form an opinion of a person whom I met half an hour ago. Especially if he is unconscious."

"I meant... the way he seems from the female point of view. How would you describe him, say, if you were talking to a friend?"

"A magnificent male specimen," Storm answered quickly.

"But he's..." Cyclops resisted further comparisons in time.

"An ugly beast, you mean? So what? Predators in their own way are attractive, like everything dangerous. Of course women like him. And even if he has such a bad character as the professor said, that won't make a difference. Bad guys are also appealing."

If so, thought Cyclops, a bit surprised at the strange preferences of women in general and Storm in particular, then this Logan might well be that Logan. Waiting for him to regain consciousness seemed painfully impossible to Scott... and then it dawned on him.

"Does Logan have claws?" he asked Rogue.

"Yeah. Metal, three in each hand. They come out between his knuckles. How did you know?"

Cyclops wasn't ready to share the secrets of his past with the teenage girl he had just met, who was soon to be his pupil, but Ororo came to the rescue.

"We study mutations. Claws are a common phenomenon in zoomorphs... Wait, did you say they're metal? How is that possible?"

"I don't know. He didn't say."

"Scott, that's amazing!" Storm turned to her partner. "I thought I would not be surprised at any mutation, but claws of metal? What do you think about it?"

"I think experiments were done to him." Scott realized just now that Logan could have been a prisoner of Stryker's torture.

But Storm said nothing. It was strange - Scott always believed that they were one team, one family, and they shouldn't have any secrets from each other. Previously, he'd had no secrets from the others, but for some reason this piece of his past seemed like something personal, belonging only to him. It was wrong - that past equally belonged to Logan, and, in general, it seemed ridiculous. Why hide that they'd once met? But Scott didn't want to talk about him. That memory meant too much for Scott to discuss it on the road, just after a mission, and in the presence of a future student. And he decided to talk about it later, when he found a more suitable time.

***

Immediately upon his return to school, Cyclops asked the professor what he'd meant about Wolverine's past - and he heard in response that Logan was an amnesiac.

"But you know something about him?" Scott persisted. "You talked about having a difficult nature."

"Yes, he may prove to be a bit much," Xavier said, after a pause, as if he didn't want to answer or had been thinking about how to lie better. But Scott paid no attention to this. "I watched him several times with Cerebro, that's all."

It would seem that this was the most appropriate time to admit that he and Logan had met. But Scott again said nothing. He decided it would be better to wait until Wolverine woke up, to find out if he remembered anything, and then talk about the past. What was the rush?

He didn't say anything either, deciding not to distract Xavier from the trouble with Logan and the new student. In the evening, when they went to bed, Jean noticed that Scott was thoughtful, and asked what was the matter. This, too, could be a convenient moment for the story, but Cyclops only said he'd had a hard day. Not that it wasn't the truth. His day had certainly been difficult, and he was exhausted. And Jean, too, had already had more than enough for today, so it wouldn't do any good if they tried to have an important discussion at this time of night. He could tell her about everything tomorrow.

"I'm worried," Jean sighed. "The Mutant Registration Act will probably be passed..."

She soon fell asleep, sitting at Scott's side. And he, despite his fatigue, looked at the ceiling for a long time and then at the moonlit window, thinking how to have tomorrow's conversation.

That night, he had nightmares about Stryker and Sabretooth.

***

Logan woke up the next morning and immediately demonstrated in all its glory his difficult personality that the professor warned everyone about. Not that all the mutants rescued by the X-Men at once fell apart in thanks - they'd unfortunately hit upon more than a few who'd been hard-beaten by life and therefore not prone to excessive credulity, meeting the team with fear, suspicion or malice. But none of them had ever tried to choke Jean or made fun of Xavier's handicap - Scott couldn't even say which angered him more between the bruises on his love's neck or his mentor so undeservingly insulted.

He didn't even suspect that he would speak to Xavier in high tones a day later. And it was all because of Logan.

But that morning Cyclops restrained himself and with a smile extended a hand to Wolverine (which wasn't even glanced at). He knew all too well what a man who suffered from Sabretooth's attacks and then woke up in some suspicious laboratory would be feeling.

Near the laboratory table, where Scott was strapped, stood a seemingly ruthless woman with smoothly combed back hair and cold fish eyes, and a man in an army uniform. He smiled, and this smile was almost worse than Sabetooth's.

Scott tried not to remember what happened next.

So he was preparing to forgive Logan his rudeness, even if he hadn't saved Scott once.

Scott wanted to talk to him all day - maybe there was something that Wolverine remembered. But the professor stole several of those hours as he showed Logan the school (Scott didn't understand why such a detailed excursion was needed if Logan was just planning to leave again), and the rest of the afternoon he was examined by Jean, which worried Cyclops. Understandably, after the morning's incident, he was afraid to leave them alone.

"As you can see, I didn't get eaten," Jean smiled, stepping out of the lab. She never read Scott's mind without his permission, but she knew how to read the slightest manifestations of feelings on his impassive face. Lovers don't need telepathy, she said.

"He even apologized for what happened," she went on, touching her neck with her fingertips. "You know, all his rudeness is fake. And under it he's hiding..." Jean paused, thinking or not finding words, or not wanting to say what she really felt about this, "...is a very interesting person.

Now she's affected by him, too, Scott realized, remembering what Storm had said about Wolverine being a gorgeous male. What was it that women liked so much about Wolverine?

But while Scott maintained his selective silence with Jean and the rest of them, tomorrow he'd admit to everything, because they shouldn't have secrets from each other. But for now it will be their secret. His and Logan's. Their past belongs only to the two of them.

Our past, Scott thought. For the first time he could share it with someone. It was usually extremely helpful to talk with a person who'd experienced the same things as you. Scott understood that he could never repay Logan for everything that he had done for him. But he could return a piece of their past.

Yesterday when he'd fallen asleep, he couldn't figure out how to start that conversation. Now he decided there was no need to complicate it. Just approach Logan and say: "We met fifteen years ago. Do you remember?"

But when Cyclops entered Wolverine's room, he immediately forgot what he wanted to talk with him about.

It wasn't that Jean was in Logan's room, or even that he was holding her hands. But when Jean recoiled, and her face became embarrassed and even slightly guilty, Scott had the ground yanked from under his feet.

He had never known jealousy before. Jean was beautiful and men liked her, but she was able to delicately put in their place the ones she found especially annoying (sometimes in a literal sense with the help of telekinesis), and such cases had never involved her touching them. And then... she had such a lost expression... and how she, with a crumpled farewell, almost ran out of the room...

The habit of constantly restraining his feelings came into play, and Cyclops managed to keep an unruffled look and even made the voice sound mocking.

"And, Logan, stay away from my girl," he warned at the door.

"And if I don't?"

"Don't try me. It could get ugly."

"Oh yeah?" Logan smirked, arching an eyebrow. "I'd love to see that."

"I warned you." Scott hurried to slam the door, otherwise Wolverine would have realized this very moment.

***

"Yes, I like Logan, he's... intriguing. But I thought that years of living together would let you trust me!" She was indignant. "Over the years, I've never seen you so angry about someone. And you've never been jealous before."

"I saw how you looked at him!"

"I looked into his thoughts. I saw how he was implanted with adamantium. Jesus, Scott... the metal had to be melted for it! And he felt the whole thing... I'm scared to even think about what else he might've gone through."

"Then think about what I'm going through right now!" Cyclops finally lost his temper. The molten metal of jealousy was boiling in his soul.

"Think about what's going on with you. I won't bother you, then," Jean said calmly but firmly, mastering herself and leaving.

The knock of a slammed door sobered Scott as if he had been doused by a bucket of cold water. They hadn't really fought like this in years. Minor disagreements, of course, happened - everyone had them - but for the first time Jean went to bed in another room.

Scott sat on the bed, hands clasped behind his head. What was happening to him? Or rather, _why_ was it happening to him? What made him act like this to Jean? In the morning Scott couldn't imagine he'd do anything like that... even though he already had.

Stop, Scott told himself. You have to pull yourself together. He was the commander. He always kept control of his feelings. He trusts Jean; Cyclops had even said as much to Wolverine before they'd had their minor altercation. He must trust his girlfriend. Jean just felt sorry for Logan, was horrified at what he'd had to endure, and that was it, Scott told himself.

But the thought of the attraction of predators crept into his head, and it was impossible to drive it away because he knew it was true. And if he, a man, was aware of Logan's bestial appeal, what impression did he have on women? And Scott tossed from side to side without sleep, remembering the confused face of Jean, the mockingly curved brow of Logan - the latter much more often.

In the end, Scott comforted himself that it wouldn't take very long. The professor would deal with Magneto, would return Logan's memory, and then Logan could leave. And everything would be as before.

Then Cyclops remembered he was going to tell Wolverine that they'd met. Okay, Scott decided, tomorrow he'll go to Logan and tell him everything. No, first he will go to Jean and ask for forgiveness. And then he'll talk to Logan. After all, Wolverine has the right to know his past, no matter how they might otherwise clash.

Scott once again remembered Logan's insolent grin and inside everything boiled again. But, he thought, since Wolverine wants so much to know his past, a much more impressive starter than threats would be a simple phrase: "We met fifteen years ago. Do you remember?"

But at night there was that case with Rogue, and in the morning Scott didn't go looking for Logan. He went to the Danger room and put on his old training program, which he hadn't used for ten years. The one with Sabretooth. He adjusted it to become Wolverine - it took very little, they were like brothers - and launched the tenth level.

The updated program threw him a little, but in the end he felt better. In any case, Cyclops decided he'd be able to finally have that damned conversation.

"We met fifteen years ago. Do you remember?"

But when Scott went to look for Logan, the professor called him. Rogue had left the school. The reason was obvious, it was because of last night's incident. Because of Logan. Wolverine had the whole school positively turned upside down, and he'd been staying with them for less than two days.

Cyclops stopped being angry when he discovered that Logan had also disappeared - along with Scott's motorcycle. He was just too strained to be angry anymore.

And then there was a massacre at the station, and Mystique disabled Cerebro and put the professor into a coma, and there was a fight on the Statue of Liberty - and there was no time for talking.

And then Logan left without saying goodbye.

And everything got back to normal. Temporarily, of course - the slight changes were felt through the empty place in the garage where Scott's motorcycle used to stand, and the army tag on the metal chain that Rogue proudly wore around her neck. Her guarantee of Wolverine's return.

However, Cyclops didn't have to go into the garage or see Rogue to remember Logan. And this constancy with which Wolverine so stubbornly returned to his thoughts caused bewilderment and irritation. Well, how the heck is this nasty animal, even being who knew where, managing to spoil his mood?

If it had not been for this ugly creature, Cyclops, the entire X-Men team, and at least half the inhabitants of New York were no longer alive. Not to mention the fact that Logan had now saved Scott two more times. But gratitude could do nothing against his jealousy. And the predator did not want to leave Scott's mind - sometimes even when he was alone with Jean.

Logan returned, as he had appeared - exactly when Scott had enough problems without him; the day a mutant almost assassinated the president. And Cyclops remembered another common statement: trouble doesn't go alone.

"Aren't you gonna welcome me home?"

That's exactly what he said. Home.

So now Wolverine considered Xavier's school to be his home. Nothing would be the same as before, Scott realized bitterly.

But he still had to tell Logan about the past. Only there was still somehow no time to talk. The professor was going to visit Magneto. Well, Scott decided, he'd talk to Logan when he returned, the same evening, no longer postponing. They would have to figure things out between them, since Wolverine was going to settle here.

Scott didn't know that when he returned, the past would no longer matter. Like the present or the future.

The events of the next two days resembled one continuous nightmare, and the apex of this nightmare was a gigantic wall of water, ultimately collapsing on a small figure enveloped in fiery radiance.

Scott would've gone there - not to save Jean, but to die with her - and it was Logan who held him back. Scott wrenched himself, just like fifteen years ago under Sabretooth's paws, but just like then Wolverine's grip wouldn't budge. And something broke on the inside, just as uncontrollably as the Alkali Lake dam. Scott fell to the chest of the now-former rival, his face buried in a tattered combat suit, and tears poured in an uncontrollable stream as the entire surrounding world ceased to exist.

 

2\. Logan.

Let's get up in the morning and shake hands with each other,   
For a moment we 'll forget about our grief,   
Enjoy this morning air with pleasure, With   
full chest, for the time being we breathe, let's breathe!   
_Omar Khayyam_

 

 

Wolverine couldn't cry; only his throat was seized by a painful spasm. He didn't know if he'd forgotten how to cry, having lost his memory, or if he'd never been able to - after all, animals can't cry. He would, perhaps, have howled like an animal, if no one was around, but instead only tightened his grip on Cyclops shuddering with sobs.

It was strange to see how the most ordinary human tears flow from under his vizier.

The fact that he and Cyclops were embracing like close friends or lovers did not seem strange to Logan.

Scott had already stopped struggling, but Wolverine did not unclench his hands. He clung to Cyclops - the last reminder that Jean had been here not long ago, walking and alive...

So they sat, still holding each other, the entire journey back to the school.

***

Then they were sitting in Xavier's office, and he recounted Jean's youth - also, in effect, clinging to the illusion that she was still somewhere around here, and trying to prolong her existence through this conversation. Logan listened attentively; he also did not want to leave this comforting lie. Cyclops stood motionless at the window, staring at something in the courtyard, and was silent. Only once he asked in a colorless voice:

"Could we have done more to save her?"

"In the past, she may have let us."

"Why did she leave the plane?" Asked Logan.

"Because she made a choice."

This Logan already knew. A few weeks ago, on the Statue of Liberty, he'd also opted for Rogue. With only one difference - he'd survived.

At the door knocked the children; it was time for the lesson. Life continued.

The door to the office slammed shut, and Scott came into the hall with hunched shoulders. It was a pity to look at what remained of the valiant commander of the X-Men, and Wolverine could not resist.

"Hey!"

Cyclops turned reluctantly.

"Listen, she did make a choice. It was you."

In fact, Jean had found no comparison. Logan was attractive to her, but only physically. Ordinary flirting. She'd told him as much:

"Girls flirt with dangerous guy, Logan, they don't take him home. They marry the good guy."

"I could be the good guy."

"Logan, the good guy sticks around," and Wolverine had no answer to that. He couldn't - and wouldn't - stick around, and they both knew it.

So the reason for jealousy between him and Cyclops was gone. Maybe his words would make it just a little less painful.

Crazy, Logan thought, how he was comforting Cyclops.

Admittedly, he'd lost much less. He did not belong to Jean. He'd only had hopes that - if he was honest - would never happen, crazy erotic fantasies and that single kiss.

So he'd survive, and not for the first time. Logan didn't remember details, but the pain of loss was too familiar. Now he knew for sure - there, in the forgotten past, had been a woman he loved. The woman who'd hurt him.

It's just pain, Logan often repeated. It will pass. Everything passes.

But with Cyclops, things were bad. Jean had been his whole world, and now that world had collapsed.

Logan couldn't imagine that the pay-boy is capable of such deep feelings. Pay-boys don't have feelings. They have only debt and rules.

Cyclops, of course, is no longer a boy - he is about thirty years old. But the pay-boys don't grow up. They live their lives with a children's black and white vision of the world. It's good, or it's bad. No half-tones.

Wolverine treated them with mild disdain, sometimes with annoyance, if the pay-boys tried to lecture morality to him. But for the most part he was indifferent, since they didn't present any danger. In battle, they weren't the most formidable opponents, because they didn't like to fight. And to be a good fighter, you need to love a fight - you need to love anything to do it well. The head should stay cool, but you should get pleasure from the fight.

And the underhanded little jabs from boys aren't frightening. Yes, it should be expected from anyone - life has taught this to Wolverine long ago - but not from the share-boys. They, Logan suspected, aren't capable of dirty tricks. Apparently, they have some kind of stopper or fuse inside.

That's the way - with contempt and irritation - he took it first to Cyclops. Then there was jealousy and, accordingly, anger. And after the bout on the Statue of Liberty between them inevitably arose those bonds that bring people together, from the danger, to become finally a sense of respect: Summers was a good commander. You could get that from a pay-boy sometimes; a good commander needs an inflated sense of duty, and in this respect, the pay-boys have no equal.

Such a cocktail existed in Scott. Logan tried to understand his feelings; perhaps, that's why Scott appeared in his thoughts more often than he would have liked. Even interrupting thoughts about Jean, his fantasies. Yes, Logan had tried to imagine how Cyclops made love with Jean.

The sensation was as if he were peeping through the keyhole, but the stupid thoughts clung to his mind obsessively, and they wouldn't be shaken out.

And now, it seemed, he'd have to collect these scattered pieces of Scott's world. Well, since he was saving the world with this idealist team in the literal sense of the word, why not. Maybe it will help him to ease his own pain. Yes, it's just pain... but that mental phrase offers no comfort.

Scott stared through Logan for a long moment - he didn't doubt that it was _through_ instead of  _at,_  though Cyclops' eyes were hidden by glasses - then he sighed and, without answering, went to his room.

Wolverine moved to the other side - to the exit of the mansion. Staying here, where everything was reminiscent of Jean, was saturated with her smell, was unbearable. Logan even seriously thought about how to leave for good. He had nothing here. Right now, comforting Cyclops, Wolverine finally realized that Jean was no more.  _She's gone._ He kept saying it in the airplane over and over again when he was holding Scott, but he fully felt it now.

Going down the hall to the main staircase, Logan recalled how Jean had come down it when he'd returned to the mansion. On this step she stopped, seeing him. On the rails still remained the smell of Jean's hand. Smells are more tenacious than humans. For the first time Wolverine was ready to curse his enhanced senses.

"You'll be here when we get back... unless you plan on running off again...?" she'd said then.

"Well, I could find a few reasons to stick around..."

Now there was no reason to stay.

If he left now, he wouldn't have to feel helpless while her scent weakens slowly by the hour.

He'd wind up in a dive bar, drink too much, pick up some slut, sleep plagued with nightmares, and in the morning get up and go to nowhere - the way things had been for the past fifteen years. But before he'd had some small hope of knowing his past. Now he knew that he was a machine for killing in the control of those who wouldn't get their own hands dirty. Worse was the realization that his past self was a  _stranger_. Wolverine had read the file on some James Howlett, and nothing responded inside. Logan learned, and did not remember - it turned out that these are completely different things, and the knowledge offered none of the satisfaction he'd been counting on all these years. And there was no longer the future which he was beginning to hope for when he'd returned to the Xavier mansion.

***

He of course ended up where he'd been before, but the ache of longing wouldn't stop, at times so painful that it threatened to spill out in uncontrolled animal fury. No, the booze in the crappy bar was bearable, and the yawning at the counter of the whore - not too well-worn for such an institution. The trouble was that it didn't last long. Once again, Logan found himself alone in his thoughts: how many men would sell their souls to the devil for the ability to regenerate and instantly recover from sex. Now he would prefer, like ordinary people, to turn his back on the wall and fall asleep. But there was no exhaustion, and Wolverine again went to the bar, where the two whores were waiting. One of them was called Jean, and every desire to sleep with her immediately vanished, and the other had some kind of infection - chlamydia, he thought. Logan, of course, couldn't become sick, but it was disgusting anyway, and he switched attention to the male part of the bar's visitors. The three guys at the table by the door looked promising - real grizzlies, but they quickly realized that they were dealing with a predator much more dangerous than themselves and he just wound up in a fight. With annoyance, Wolverine even paid for them and for the damage done to the establishment, especially because his adamantium bulk had been a large contributor.

With drinking, things were no better. There wasn't much point in it anyway - he himself could not say exactly why he was drinking. Just when alcohol for a second or two was fogging his mind, it seemed to Logan that now the lost memories would come up from the mist. This has never happened, but he continued to drink regularly, stubbornly hoping to remember. Oblivion was another favorable option... but his healing factor never allowed him such relief.

Finishing the third bottle, Logan admitted to himself that it was pointless and left. Cyclops' motorcycle was waiting for him at the door. Wolverine didn't know if he'd be able to stick around at the school, but the bike should be returned to its owner, and he chose the road leading to the mansion.

***

He returned late at night, and only one window shone in the mansion. It was possible to leave the motorcycle at the gate and take off, but Wolverine stood looking at the light square. He knew whose window it was. Then he tossed the cigar butt and went inside.

Three days ago he'd called this place his home, and leaving had made him realize it was true. Here he was happy. Logan remembered how Storm smiled at the sight of him, who so sharply reprimanded him before the battle on the Statue of Liberty, how the present warmed up in the gentle smile of the professor. In the morning they'll smile again when they see that Logan was here. And in their smell, through the bitter notes of suffering, there will be fresh sprouts of joy that for Logan always smelled like the first spring foliage.

...and the smell of Jean became weaker, and when Wolverine imagined how he would eventually lose it completely, the weariness struck with renewed vigor. His animal nature desperately sought freedom, tearing his soul with its claws. He stood at the foot of the stairs, leveling his breath, then moved up them to the room at the end of the  hall where he knew that window was still lit.

He didn't knock, knowing there'd be no answer. Logan just pushed the door - and was hit by the scent of her, falling on him like an ocean wave, so that everything inside him hurt and an invisible hand clasped his throat, not letting him say a word. Wolverine didn't even _know_ what to say - he was waiting for Cyclops to speak first, even if he demanded that Logan get out. At least then he could snap something back and they'd be talking.

But Scott was silent. He was sitting on the bed in the midst of a heap of clothes; he was collecting things belonging to Jean. At the sound of the door opening, he turned his head and, just as he had before, looked  _through_  Logan. Logan watched and said nothing. Either Scott was waiting for the intruder to speak first, or he just wouldn't talk at all.

When the silence became unbearable - at least for Logan - he stepped inside, closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. The hand on his throat loosened slightly, and since Scott still did not respond, Wolverine asked the obvious just to break the silence.

"This her stuff?"

Scott looked from Wolverine to the dress he held in his hands, staring at it for a long time as if he didn't understand what kind of thing it was and what to do with it.

"It was her favorite. She liked the color red."

Logan never saw Jean in this dress. He used to see her in a white medical coat or a black combat suit. He didn't know that she liked red. He knew so little about her...

"Tell me about her."

"Tell you what?"

"Anything you want."

"I don't want to." Scott finally lowered the dress into the nearby cardboard box, took the next one from the pile and froze again.

Logan pulled away from the door and walked around the room, looking at knickknacks and photographs - little memories of Jean. These memories belonged to Scott, and Logan knew he couldn't ask for one. If he couldn't have his own memories, then he certainly couldn't steal someone else's. But so he wanted to have one, especially the one where Jean stood, lit by the sun, on the shores of a forest lake, one hand taking away the drooping branch of a tree from her face and the other holding her hair caught in a gust of wind. It turns out that she used to wear it long, almost to the waist.

"Why'd she cut her hair?"

"Got tired of fighting with it."

Scott put the dress in the box, as if the question brought him out of his stupor, and again he froze with the next one in his hands.

"I thought you asked her to."

"No, I liked it."

And again Scott repeated the cycle of actions. Put the dress in a box. Take another. He froze.

And if I don't talk to him, he'll stare at one dress, Logan thought. How long had he been sitting over this heap, unable to finish?

Wolverine inhaled deeply, trying to breathe in the smell of Jean and imprint it in his memory. But with the smell of Jean was the smell of Scott, just as there was a part of her's in Scott's scent. They lived together for many years, and their smells intertwined. Now Logan knew why he'd been so disillusioned with Cyclops at their first meeting: because he was wearing the smell of Jean.

Here, in their room, the scents merged, and Jean's warm, soothing fragrance was mixed with the heavy smell of Scott's depression. It wasn't bitter-sharp like the suffering of Storm and the professor - it seemed somehow lifeless, suffocating, and reminded Logan of a lethal leakage of gas, or the stench of a decaying corpse. It was intolerable, as if Scott deliberately poisoned the smell of Jean, and he couldn't stand it.

"Enough," he snapped, stepping in front of Scott. "You can't do this."

"What?" Cyclops raised his face to Logan towering over him.

"Cry. Get drunk. Break something." Wolverine snatched the dress from his hands, threw it into the box and shook Scott by the collar of his shirt. From the smells that were mixing up, his animal instincts screamed to bolt, but he fought them. "Don't just sit here and waste away."

"I don't want to." Scott shook his head, his expression unchanging.

"For fuck's sake, did you die, too?" growled Logan. "What if Jean saw you like this, huh?"

"She won't see. She's not here..." Cyclops answered in the same voice. His lifeless tone, and the same inanimate smell, and the stupefying scent of Jean coming from the heap of dresses, finally finished Wolverine. The beast broke free, but this time he did not want to kill - the beast wanted to love, he wanted fierce pushes of hard flesh into warmth that was pliable and wet, groans that turned into growls, nails that dug into skin, the struggle of bodies, panting breath and the spicy drunk smell of sex, so intoxicating and the only drug his regeneration wouldn't instantly purge.

Logan jerked his arms apart, still clutching the collar of Scott's shirt. The fabric tore and buttons bounced to the floor with a sound that was annoyingly loud to his sensitive ears.

"She's not here, you're right. There's just us two," snarled Wolverine. He tore off the remains of the shirt from Scott, dragged him by his hair and almost fiercely met his lips. The sensation of the stubble was unfamiliar but exciting. Scott still didn't move, only clenched his teeth; Logan kept digging ever deeper into his mouth, biting them. When he sensed the iron and warmth, his own blood pounded in his temples, rushed to his groin, and it became hot and heavy. Then Cyclops finally came to life, his tongue slid into Logan's mouth, and his hands yanked open the buckle of the belt and the zipper to release a straining member. Wolverine let go of his hair, also reaching but without the patience - he simply tore off Scott's trousers with his index claw together with his briefs, leaving a few bleeding cuts on the skin, and knocked Scott over onto the bed. Again he covered Scott's mouth with his own, and somewhere on the edge of consciousness the thought flashed that for a man who knew only one woman (Logan didn't doubt that the pay-boy had only had Jean), Scott was a skilled kisser. Cyclops turned his head, struggling to break away from Logan, and muttered:

"The dresses... not on them... it's wrong..."

It really was sick to make love on Jean's clothes, so Logan and Scott started to shovel them into the boxes, still trying to kiss. Doing this on a bed that still held the smell of recent sex between Jean and Scott was also wrong, but Wolverine didn't care anymore. When the bed was clear, he impatiently ripped off his own jeans.

"Turn around."

Cyclops, a few minutes ago resembling a zombie, could still show signs of life: his cock almost pressed against his stomach, and from his scent Logan knew that the man wants him no less strongly. Scott, however, retained some amount of logic:

"We'll need lube."

Wolverine snorted and went into the bathroom. Finding nothing more suitable, he grabbed a blue jar of Jean's cream from the shelf, thinking for a moment that it might also be wrong to use it, but this cream was also part of Jean's smell, and her smell was the only thing Logan would be able to keep for himself to remember. Anyway, this smell isn't there to anybody except him, and that would be truly wrong and unfair - if the smell of Jean was gone and nobody knew.

Scott was already on his hands and knees, his back and sides were shaking with heavy breathing. Logan joined himself from behind, generously scooped up the cream, another hand rubbed his strong buttocks. Cyclops leaned back, opening himself. Wolverine neatly introduced his index finger into the hole and began to stretch with leisurely movements. Scott half-sighed, half-whimpered as a shiver ran through his skin.

"Faster..."

But Wolverine wasn't in a hurry, although he was no less consumed by desire. The beast could wait patiently in ambush. Logan introduced the second finger and with his free hand began to caress the sides and chest of an already moaning Cyclops. It was unusual to feel firm muscles under his hands instead of soft female roundness. Stroking the taut nipples with his finger, he thought about his own skills, somewhat strange for someone who had not previously dealt with men - but Logan could only vouch for the last fifteen years. He teased a third finger into the hot, tight space, and lowered his other hand to play over the squares of abdominal muscles with tickling movements. Scott didn't moan anymore, but howled; these almost inhuman sounds brought Logan to frenzy, but with a desperate effort of will he forced himself to hold back.

"Come on!" Scott pleaded.

But Wolverine continued to caress his stomach, only occasionally touching the head of his penis with the tips of his fingers, and stroked the shaft a couple of times, slightly pulling at the foreskin. Finally, deciding that the hole was sufficiently stretched, he quickly smeared the remaining cream on himself, took Scott's buttocks in his hands, nudging in slowly and carefully so it wouldn't hurt.

"More... more..." Scott moaned, clutching the sheet.

Finally Wolverine's member was in completely, and Cyclops howled in a voice with pleasure and pain; Logan, snarling, leaned close to him and began to rub his chest against his back, trying to soak up his smell - yes, Scott's scent, finally a living thing again.

He also was hurting - Scott was still too narrow, but it couldn't stop Logan. Now that his hands were free, he caressed Scott's penis, and gently groped at his neck and shoulders. The rhythm of movements accelerated, the bed creaked and groaned, blood rustled wildly in his ears, and the love smell became thicker and stronger, enveloping him like a cocoon, cutting Logan off from the whole world...

They finished at the same time, with a hoarse, growling scream. Cyclops's hands clenched and he buried his face in the sheets, and Wolverine fell on top of him, biting into the sweaty neck. Scott suddenly caught his hand and also bit him above the wrist, leaving the sharp semicircles of his teeth. The smell of passion, hot skin, sweat, seed, blood from scratches and bites covered Logan like a blanket, and he somehow rolled off his lover, blissfully stretched out next to Scott and not thinking about anything...

***

In the morning, falling out of sleep, Logan thought that today he was in a terrible nightmare: that Jean had died, and he had slept with Cyclops out of grief. Then he woke up completely and remembered that it was all true, both about Jean and about Cyclops.

Scott snorted nearby, his face buried in Wolverine's shoulder. Logan has not stayed with anyone for the night, knowing that he can't control himself in a dream and the recent incident with Rogue serving as confirmation. But last night he'd fallen asleep next to Scott, and the nightmares did not disturb him.

Trying not to wake Cyclops, Logan sat cautiously on the bed. His jeans - or rather the leftover pile of rags - lay on the floor. He stole a pair from Scott's closet; in the belt they came together with difficulty - Wolverine was muscular - but he managed. Worse still, the legs were the wrong length. He tried to manage this as quietly as possible, but Scott woke up. He was wincing with pain, staring in bewilderment at Logan until he remembered what had happened that night and turned the same color as his visor.

"It was a mistake."

"Not really. You're clearly better."

Cyclops now stank of bitter suffering, guilt, shame and anger - but all these were living feelings, not like those that had gone with his apathy yesterday. Now he could manage. And I can do it, Logan thought. The pain from the loss was still acute, but the animal had calmed down at least for a short while, and did not scratch, but dozed, curled up in a cozy tangle.

"We lost our senses," Cyclops said, grimacing, and ran his hands over his face.

"Sure And we did fine without them."

"Just two days, like..."

"If you were dead, wouldn't you want Jean to be happy again? She would've wanted this for you, too."

"That shouldn't happen again," Scott insisted stubbornly.

"And I'm ready to repeat it if you change your mind."

"Go away," Cyclops said dryly, and went into the bathroom.

Predictable. Still, it would be helpful to the boy to see that even if he stopped being perfectly right, the world wouldn't implode.

Arguing with him would be useless, so Wolverine went to the door.

"Logan," Scott said suddenly.

"What?"

But Cyclops, after a pause, muttered: "No, nothing," and disappeared into the bathroom.

Wolverine shrugged and slammed the door behind him.

 

3\. Scott.

Hot water streams flowed down his body, the steam rose to the ceiling, but the shame was drowning him. Scott couldn't believe that he had conscientiously betrayed Jean's memory, and with whom? With that monster? Scott knew that he was soaked with animal smell, and he furiously tore at his body with a stiff washcloth; bites and scratches stung, but Cyclops only tried harder, punishing himself with pain for a night of traitorous pleasure.

How he could look Logan in the eyes and speak with him now, he couldn't imagine. Even less did he know how to deal with talking about the past. And Scott almost started it. And what would Wolverine think - that some conversation about a meeting in the past hints at new meetings in the future? That Scott even then fell in love with him?

At least, Scott persuaded himself, this conversation was no longer so important. In addition to the folder lying on President McKenna's desk, Kitty picked up a lot of documentation from Stryker's office about various mutants, including the Logan dossier. So he knows his past, and Scott could postpone the details for later. It was settled, so Scott would do it. He'd tell Wolverine about their meeting, but someday later, when they are finally in agreement about their... relationship. There is still plenty of time.


End file.
